Ikea and Dyson, A Perfect Storm

About a year ago, on my biannual voyage to Ikea, I discovered these:

you little beauties (mrscarmichael)

Packets and packets were piled in bins beside the checkout where I queued to pay for my toilet brushes, washing up brushes, table mats, napkins, hand towels and wine glasses.

Yes, it was an Ikea controlled purchase but it is fair to say I fell in love a little that day. These colourful snap and clicks are multiplying in my kitchen as I find more and more things I can seal up with them. Sugar, bread, spices, coffee beans, fridge food, freezer food all clicked and accounted for.

action shot (mrscarmichael)

I give them to friends. I pop them into the luggage of daughters’ various. I enjoy choosing which colour to coordinate with foodage that requires containing. No ‘perfect’ home should be without them.

These clips were my household purchase of 2013.

2014 brought with it a broken dishwasher, a microwave that not only incendiarised a couple of potatoes but spectacularly self-immolated in the process and a vacuum cleaner that stopped sucking up dirt.

So my new Dyson vacuum became the purchase of the moment. Not only handsome it sucked with strength and venom. I almost enjoyed using it.

And then, Dear Readers, its suck lessened, its dust container didn’t fill, its mojo moved on. I was destrait.

This morning I could no longer pretend that I was ridding Casa Carmichael’s floor of any debris. With Mr C in the office and someone arriving to spend the night I have been forced to rid myself of glamourous pretensions and get down and dirty with the hoover.

This has been my last two hours:

not looking quite so fine now are you Sir? (mrscarmichael)

I took every take apart apart. I blew. I sucked. I forced my eye to the aperture. No improvement.

not so hot without words (mrscarmichael)

Committed to the repair I hunted for and found the manual. The manual contains no words. For a verbal rather than a non-verbal reasoner this turn of events spelt secondary disaster.

let’s try the help desk (mrscarmichael)

I resorted to the good ol’ fashioned telephone and Lauren at Dyson service. We had a long conversation about the lack of suckage, the fact I thought half a christmas tree might be stuck in the pipe and my pride in already having managed to unscrew some screws. The unscrewing in itself had not however, resolved the blockage. I described my attempts to insert a drain unblocker. She suggested I desist with the sewage/limescale descaler and use my fingernails to pull the last little bit of the vacuum apart.

Wooh – these babies? I tried to use my nails and chipped one. I informed Lauren that nails were a no go and an engineer might be required asap. She informed me that he would probably be chargeable. I attempted the nail manoeuvre one last time. It didn’t work.

assorted utensils (mrscarmichael)

Then Lauren suggested a coat hanger saying it was her own tool of choice. I told her I thought she was brilliant but that rest assured I’d be straight back on the blower if an un-twisted wire hanger did not do the job.

It did the job.

how David brought down Goliath (mrscarmichael)

I love my Dyson vacuum cleaner now that’s it’s fit for purpose again. I still adore my Ikea clips. I do not want them dating.

I shall now vacuum the house. After I’ve made some coffee. And taken some photos. And written this.

David, you little bugger (mrscarmichael)

I am feeling rather pleased with myself.